


That Which We Want

by VillainIHaveDoneThyMother



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: (Both of the Biological and Social Type), (But for Alien Clones), Asexuality, F/M, In Charge Entrapta, Labpartners with Benefits, Self-Hatred, Sexual Arousal Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 23:56:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20105752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VillainIHaveDoneThyMother/pseuds/VillainIHaveDoneThyMother
Summary: Hordak is pretty sure it's unnatural to have such thoughts. After all, the clones of the Horde were stripped of concerns like desire long ago.Entrapta sets him straight on the many ways that people can be.





	That Which We Want

**Author's Note:**

> hi, just realized i should probably add some disclaimers. namely hordak is an mental health nightmare and most of his views about sexuality are wrong. (similar to his views about leadership, galactic conquest, etc.) please discount him. listen to entrapta in this story. there are a lot of ways to have sex and a universe of diversity in sexual preferences and non-preferences. just be yourself and have fun!

Horde Prime had not made his clones entirely in his image. Why bother with functionalities a perfect soldier would never need? The endless armies of the Horde were more streamlined than their progenitor, more efficient, arguably more perfect. (The only person to ever argue that had been killed messily). 

The Emperor of the Universe had many capabilities and foibles his clones did not. It was even rumored that he'd at one point had a son. 

As for his clones… well, reproducing wasn’t something they were expected to do. And if you were going to throw out the baby why not get rid of the bathwater as well?

Hordak and his many brothers weren’t expected to be sexual creatures. Such instincts were supposed to be excised from them. Their bodies were not made to respond in such ways. It made them harder to corrupt or subvert from their Emperor’s glorious cause.

But perhaps the work was less than perfect, or perhaps Hordak was. Though he did not feel urges the same way that Etherians seemed to (terrible, simplistic creatures, constantly caught up in petty struggles of sex and power) he is plagued by thoughts of strange affections. Of touches he surely did not have the capacity to reciprocate, of mindless thrusting motions meant for a baser purpose he could no longer fulfill. 

It's all Entrapta’s fault. He hadn’t had this problem before her. There had been strange, formless dreams, yes, and wordless desires he would never admit to, but never fantasies of such vivid detail. 

He wants her. Her hair, wild and moving everywhere, touching and prying at every part of him. The calloused skin of her hands when she takes off her gloves for delicate work. Her bare shoulders are fascinating and the line of flesh between her collar and shirt is a nuisance. 

Surely this is yet another sign of how broken he is. No sensible creature would fixate on such foolish things. 

Unfortunately the most sensible person in a hundred mile radius is Entrapta. If anyone can puzzle out these odd thoughts it would be her. Her mind is a maze full of little mysteries and most importantly she is a native to these uncouth sexual ways. 

“I have,” he says slowly in a little gap in one of their testing sessions. “Some sociological questions about your people. They have been troubling me for some time.”

“Ooh, the tough stuff! Social sciences are really hard. You’d think people would be easier than robots but no.” She takes a seat, as is her wont, in the nest of her own hair. Hordak has the sudden, preposterous thought that he wants her to perch like that on_ him _.

“They are of what a less rigorous mind would call a delicate nature,” he warns.

“Hit me with it! Questions are always good.”

“Your people, the Etherians. They are by and large a sexual species, yes? I have commanded the Horde for many years and I have noticed that interactions of this nature tend to provoke a very strong response from your people.”

Entrapta is fiddling with something, her hands never still. “In some people, yes. Everyone is different, especially when it comes to sex. I don’t have a lot of observational data on the subject but I have some old books and they line up with my own recordings.”

“And what have you observed?” Imp isn’t here, he’s off doing his nasty little work, and Hordak feels strangely relieved. Some conversations require privacy. (Emily, puttering around in a corner, barely counts. He’s moderately certain it’s not sentient.)

“That some people feel attraction very strongly towards members of one gender, others to another, and some to multiple. Some people want lots of sex and some want none. And sometimes wanting sex and wanting sex with other people are separate.” She puts aside a reassembled power drill. “Take me, for example. I like sex plenty and it’s fine but I’ve never felt a_ desire _for other people like some of the books talk about. That’s normal. Everything’s normal, if you broaden your scope enough.”

A strange pang of disappointment resounds through him. “Ah. You don’t?”

She stands up and puts her hands on her solid hips. “No. Why are you interested in me all of a sudden though? If this is about your subjects I thought you’d be interested in, I don’t know, Scorpia. Her situation is an especially interesting one.”

“You are one of the people I know best,” Hordak feels put on the defensive. Entrapta has a strange way of doing that, of making him feel cornered and small even in the middle of his lab, in his city. “You make a good case study.”

Doubt tugs at the corners of Entrapta’s long mouth. “Fair enough. What about your species then? You talk as if you don’t reproduce sexually but cloning isn’t exactly a natural process. Oooh, do you actually bud? Do you form spores?” Her sudden excitement catapults her forward, into his personal space.

“We’re not- I mean-” Once again, Hordak finds himself backing up. “Our progenitor is from a species not dissimilar to your own, but we have changed in the cloning process. None of the clones of Horde Prime have any capacity to reproduce or engage in sexual activity.”

Instead of looking shocked or horrified, she just seems thoughtful. “Well, I don’t know about that. There are a lot of ways to have sex.”

Hordak’s heart is mostly cybernetics at this point and very reliable, but he swears it almost stops. 

Like a spaceship crashing through the atmosphere, Entrapta hurtles forward. “Of course if you’re not interested it’s a moot point, but I’m sure if we put our heads together we could brainstorm something.”

It’s all he can do not to splutter. Suddenly her pointed face is very close to him. The air of the sanctum feels heavy, too hot and dense for his space-made lungs. “You just said you aren’t interested in people like that.”

“Not really, no. But I don’t mind sex, it can be fun, and you are a very good lab partner.” She gives him a long look. “I’m not good with people but I know when someone’s acting strange, Hordak. You’ve been looking at me funny. Now you can tell me if I’ve been misreading the situation…”

“No, I just…” he straightens his armor, though there’s nothing to straighten. “Aren’t there some basic equipment requirements? Like a bed?”

  
  


They end up in his bedroom because it’s closest.

It’s not actually much of a bedroom- he doesn’t require a lot of sleep, it’s yet another needless function largely stripped from the clones. The only thing it provides in the way of comfort is a simple mat on the floor. Entrapta tries to bounce on it and is disappointed. “Your Horde needs better mattress technology. Next project after the doomsday portal full of alien soldiers; total sleep time reengineering.”

They’ve both lost a fair number of clothes on the way to the bed. Without his armor Hordak feels stripped, and it’s almost inconceivable that there is still more stripping yet to go. He hasn’t even removed his underdress. 

Still, Entrapta is busily divesting herself of her clothing next to him and it would be rude to stare, no matter how much there is to stare at. The bared golden skin, lightly freckled and glowing with darker pink. The soft curves of her hips, the hint of soft flesh at her stomach, the way her hair looks half untied. 

He takes off his dress and feels the cold air against his fragile skin. The scars, markers of imperfection, stand out dark blue against stark white. Everywhere he is sparse and bare. Where she will have branching bodies of nerves, designed for the act they are about to undertake, he will have nothing. Where she will have soft organs made for a life on this world, he will have scar tissue and the endless signs of his own personal shame. 

She reaches out and touches his shoulder where skin, scar, and metal meet, then sighs in wonder. “It’s so nice to see all the work together. It’s much more beautiful as a single cohesive piece. Look, here, did you interface this yourself? It looks like it was done with a hand mirror.”

“A medical droid, but the work is nearly as clumsy as if it were hand done,” he admits.

Entrapta smiles. “It shows that it’s yours.”

The feelings surging in his chest now are too complex to name. 

“Let me take care of you,” he offers. He knows little about the tawdry details of sex but he can make some educated guesses. The nervous system is really an open book and between Entrapta’s folded legs he sees bits of flesh that must be highly responsive. A few light touches, some further stimulation...

“Slow down, partner. You’re the one who’s new to this. Let me take control.” Her hair wraps around his arms, holding him in place. Without his armor he’s almost helpless. She can easily overpower him.

“You don’t understand,” he can no longer disguise the frustration in his voice. “I don’t have… I’m not made to…” 

“Let me decide that for myself.” The volume is soft but the tone is commanding. “You think Etherians haven't seen a lot of ways people can be different? Necessity is the mother of invention for a reason. We've been necessitated before." Her face screws up. "Necessesitated."

"Your backwater planet-"

She shushes him again. "Just tell me when to stop. You’re used to shouting at people, right?”

She touches him. Slowly, carefully, moving over every part of his body. Sometimes it hurts a lot, through no fault of her own. Other times it feels almost nice. She runs her fingers through his hair, pats his face, and strokes his thigh. 

Then she takes his hand and guides it over the endless planes of her body. That is even better than being touched. All his wildest, most inelegant imaginings never accounted for the give of flesh or how her lips felt. Her hair is a cocoon around them, a little scratchy and distressingly prehensile but a helpful aide in times of trouble. With dozens of tiny hands she helps him touch her, kiss her. And she touches him back, all her scientific exploration of his body paying off. 

Soft strokes up and down his spine leave him shivering and she works all the pain from his degraded muscles and delicate bones. Every bit of him is hers, every neuron alight with soft sensation when she kisses him. 

It is not pleasure in the way another might experience it. He still does not have the right nerve endings, the right design. But it is pleasurable.

Finally, finally, she allows his hand between her legs and that privilege almost overwhelms him. 

“More!” she pants, suddenly vocal again. “I like that, yes, good. Oh, hey, that tickles!”

Every order he obeys. She does have the largest body of expertise in this field, after all. He is not opposed to some experimentation, however. A hint of tongue here, a little extra pressure there. Perfection is achievable, if you put in the effort. 

And when it’s over and the metaphorical dust has settled (and Entrapta is napping, her head on his arm preventing him from getting up) he wonders if he’s been malfunctioning after all. Perhaps it was always meant to be like this, nothing more and nothing less.


End file.
